Just me

It's me.

Getting them up, dressed, fed. Doing schoolruns, dishes and laundry. Planning meals, doing groceries, cooking, repeat. Making sure the house doesn't resemble how I feel inside, an absolute mess. Kissing aches and tears away, going on doctor visits. Answering their cries in the middle of the night. Searching for his glow in the dark paci that has stopped glowing hours ago. Hugging her and stroking her hair when she wakes up crying, telling me that she misses her daddy. It's me answering her tough questions with words that are age appropriate to her but unfair to me. It's me, making decisions in the best interest of our children, even when I am too tired to have a straight thought or even sleep. It's me, making plans, schedules and trying to keep it all together, while also having to do my professional job, dealing with other peoples shit.

It's me.
Grieving the life that once was. Being mad. Having panic attacks. Crying. Loneliness. Bitterness. Looking back on choices made, good and bad. Unsure. Feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. Counting the hours until I can go to bed, knowing full well I can never rest, being the only adult in this house, that will never be a home. Not doing anything at all for just me. Not having any days or weekends off. Sometimes wishing life was over, just wishing.

It's me.
Learning how to stand on my own two feet, without a man. How to be a parent on my own. Doing my best and failing. Making mistakes while also making progress. Gaining insight. Appreciating my miracles. Trying to make up for what they are missing. Learning and experiencing who I am, just me.

It's me getting there, just me.



Day 35